


of trust and love and hope

by desert_coffin



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: A whole lot of angst, Introspection, Isak POV, M/M, Missing Scenes, Past Events, canon and not-so-canon, still not sure why i wrote this tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desert_coffin/pseuds/desert_coffin
Summary: Isak loves Jonas in all the ways he shouldn’t.He can’t remember how it started and he doesn’t want to think about how it’ll end.





	of trust and love and hope

**Author's Note:**

> (TBH birthmarks posted her Josak last week and then I just had to speed mine along >__<)
> 
> Keeping in with the tradition of naming Josak fics after the lyrics of one specific Fall Out Boy song!
> 
> I initially started writing this just to put into words the moment I realised I was in love with my best friend. The other 11 k? Not sure...
> 
> NGL though, I feel a bit out of my depth with this one. I drew from a lot of real life situations but it might come across as unrealistic. Let me know maybe?
> 
> ** Tiny warning for some homophobia.

[May 2014]

Isak was good. Pretty damn good, even, if he could say so himself. There were few things he couldn't excel in if he put his mind to it. Except maybe wall climbing in P.E. Stupid fear of height.

Most notably he's good at pretending things don’t change. He’s managed to ignore the fact that his dad has been coming home increasingly late from work. The way his mom has been saying things that don’t always make sense. How she stares off into space too long at times.

And because of that, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise that he buried his feelings for Jonas deep inside of him, so far down that he can’t even see them for what they are. That he can ignore the flutter in his stomach whenever Jonas leans in too close, or the stop-start of his heart when they sit so close together their thighs touch.

It doesn’t - and it shouldn’t - mean anything. It’s just a dangerous cocktail of hormones and loneliness and codependency. A fucking mess of feelings because there are too many swirling in his head, entangling and coiling together until he can't tell which is which.

-

Once he finds out, Isak tries to rationalise it. He tells himself that it’s all down to the fact that they’ve been hanging out together too long. His head is just getting confused. He probably should get a girlfriend, like Jonas, and then it will all stop.

The fact that he hasn’t ever - _yet_ \- looked at a girl and thought he would definitely want to date her isn’t lost on him. He shoves the thought down, along with all the others he can’t bear to face right now.

 

[June 2014]

The thing is, Jonas is always around: in his thoughts, in his room, and in his classes. He leaves bits and pieces of himself everywhere, like so many visible markers of his presence in Isak’s life.

There's a dark green hoodie that belongs to him hanging on the coat rack of Isak’s dresser, and a few forgotten snapbacks on his shelves. In the mornings after a particularly wild party he always drinks his coffee from the same cup, and Isak puts it away at the back of the cupboard so no one else uses it. When he stays over Isak lets him have the fluffy pillow, just because it's nicer that way.

And in the depths of the large chest in his living room, Isak knows there are photo albums, full of pictures of them as they grew up together. At school, and at the cabin by the lake mostly. Isak also knows that there are no pictures of him _alone_ , without Jonas or without his parents, which is probably the most bizarre thing. They've become a pair of people, an item. _Never one without the other_ , the old grannies two doors down used to say when they biked past them, and Isak felt annoyed and proud all at once.

He can't remember how it started, he can't even remember the moment they first talked to each other. And lately, it feels a bit strange to think about it: to think of a time when he didn't know Jonas. He doesn't remember what he used to do after school. Whether he hung out in the courtyard before going home, or what kind of friends he had before Jonas came along.

If anything his feelings make even less sense, because Isak already _has_ him, in his everyday life and under his skin, constantly on the back of his mind.

It doesn't make any sense, when he thinks about it. Except sometimes, he knows it does.

 

[August 2014]

For a few nights that summer, they camp out by the lake near Jonas’s grandmother's house. The nights are bright here so far out from the city, and they naturally drift even closer, chasing each other through the cool water all day and making a small fire at night.

It takes them two hours just to get a proper flame started, and Isak can't resist making fun of Jonas’s lack of survival skills.

“Think the guerrilla would take in a guy who can't even light a fire without a match?” he asks as seriously as he can, biting his lip to stop the smile forming there.

Jonas socks him lightly in the shoulder, laughing.

“Fuck off, boy scout Isak. _Someone_ had to take charge after you spent 30 minutes messing around with wood sticks together for no result.”

Isak takes on a scandalized look that he knows is completely ruined by the huge grin he can't hold back.

“At least _I_ know how to make a fire without a match. You can't exactly compete here, bro.” he replies, raising his eyebrows at Jonas to punctuate his point.

“Yeah well, who cares about lighting fires when you've got a girlfriend as hot as mine.”

Jonas is smirking, proud of his lame pun, but Isak freezes. Immediately his mood comes crashing down, and there's just no denying the feeling of broken glass inside of his chest upon hearing those words.

He knows he should say something, even just pretend to be annoyed by Jonas rubbing the fact that he has a girlfriend in his face, but his mouth simply won't work.

The smile on Jonas’s face is starting to fade and the panic kick starts Isak’s brain again. There’s absolutely no way Jonas can know. And yet, Isak can't think of a lie.  

“Sorry, Issy, I… Fuck, I totally forgot,” Jonas says, suddenly, and he does sound apologetic but Isak doesn't have the slightest clue what he's talking about right now. Something must show on his face because Jonas goes on, sounding increasingly flustered.

“I forgot… Linn,” Jonas says again, trailing off, and suddenly it clicks.

Linn, who asked him out right before summer break started. Linn, who he couldn't refuse, who he let take him on a mockery of a relationship that mostly consisted of riding the same tram on their way home after school.

Isak wants to laugh because Jonas is so far off the mark it would hilarious if it wasn't this terrifying. Instead, he shrugs, squaring his shoulders. “Yeah, no… It's- it's fine. You know how it is.”

Jonas smiles that half-wistful, half-fond smile of his that means that yes, he knows. _Ingrid,_ they're both thinking. It wasn't always easy between Jonas and her, and Jonas complained often enough to make a spark of annoyance burst in Isak sometimes. He just didn't see the point of prolonging a relationship if it made Jonas feel the way he felt at times.

There's a prolonged silence, before Jonas stands up, shaking them both out of it.

“Enough mopping, I brought something fun,” he says with a slight curve to his lips that Isak finds himself mimicking immediately.

“Jonas, we've talked about your idea of fun…”

From where he's rummaging into his backpack, Jonas still manages to flip him off.

“Fuck off, Valtersen,” he says upon sitting back back down on the rotten log they've rolled into the clearing. “You'll be kissing my feet for a taste of this”

“You fucking wish” Isak replies automatically but he still glances at the object Jonas is hiding on his side. It's too dark to tell what he's holding.

“Shut up and give me the knife.”

Isak passes it, not quite understanding what Jonas is trying to do. His roasted marshmallows are more interesting at the moment.

There's a ‘plop’ sound and Jonas exclaims “Tada!” like the giant dork he is, and Isak can't help laughing at his delighted face. Jonas pushes him playfully in retaliation, knocking their shoulders together a little harder than necessary.

“What did I tell you?” Jonas says before dropping a bottle of wine on Isak’s lap.

Isak throws him a disbelieving look, only to be met with the largest grin he's ever seen.

“What…? After you got grounded a whole month last time?”

Jonas leans in, smile huge and tone conspiratory. “So let's just not get caught this time.”

“You're ridiculous. She could have looked through your bags or something.” Jonas’s mom could be paranoid at times.

“Will you shut up and open the damn bottle already? I'm thirsty,” Jonas chides him. He's still leaning too close and Isak’s heart is playing a toccata right now. He can feel heat flood his face and can only be thankful for the darkness.

Not trusting himself to speak, he takes a swig instead, before holding the bottle out toward Jonas. He can control himself well enough when he's drunk, and Jonas tends to become very uninhibited in the way he touches him.

It’s not something Isak will readily admit to himself but he does appreciate it a little too much. It's all kinds of fucked up but right now, with Jonas baring his throat to take several large drinks from the bottle, Isak couldn't care less.

-

Between the two of them, the bottle of wine didn't stand a chance. It quickly gets thrown to the side but Isak already feels terribly dizzy. He can't see straight but apparently neither can Jonas, judging by the way he stumbles all around the clearing when he gets up for a wizz, which makes it a little more okay.

Everything takes on a new dimension, the flashlight they hung inside the tent making it glow like an alien dome. They’re sat far enough that the light barely reaches them, and Isak can't see anything but pitch black darkness.

“You've never told me about what happened with Linn,” Jonas says when he sits back down, and Isak can feel his heart stop.

 _Because there's nothing to tell_ , he wants to answer. But it’s not like he can tell Jonas that. And it's not like he can think of a lie either, right now with the strident panic piercing through the fog of his brain. There’s just no reason Jonas would would want to talk about Linn again, none whatsoever.

Jonas hesitates before he goes on, and Isak’s heart in his throat. “You dumped her pretty fast…”

Isak doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Yeah, well, I just... wasn't feeling it, you know?” It’s a terrible excuse but Isak desperately hopes Jonas won't question it.

For a moment, it seems to have worked. Jonas stays silent, nibbling on his lower lip thoughtfully, and Isak relaxes somehow. That is, until Jonas decides to speak again.

“I know, but, Issy… There were some rumors after you two broke up...”

Isak glances at him but can't bring himself to linger. He's too afraid of what he might find in Jonas’s eyes. There's a question stuck between his teeth but he can't bring himself to voice it. Instead, he throws his hand up, trying to express an anger he doesn't feel.

“Do we have to talk about this right now? I'm drunk as fuck and so are you!”

Jonas, to his credit, looks contrite.

“Sorry, I just… It was a lot of dumb stuff, that's all.” He pauses for a few seconds. “I told those assholes to shut up anyway, you know I don't believe them.”

Isak gives him a tiny smile despite the panic tightening his chest. He doesn't let himself wonder what these rumors possibly were because the thought alone makes him want to throw up.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. Jonas is still looking at him like he wants to say something else and it's freaking Isak out. “I don't care anyway,” Isak adds, just so Jonas will drop it.

Of course, Jonas doesn't.

“It's just… Why did you lie? You know I don't care about that stuff.”

The automatic _I didn't_ gets stuck in his throat. Isak still doesn't know what the rumors are, and considering how insistent Jonas is, maybe it's some dumb thing. He wants to hope Jonas wouldn't play such a cruel game if any of it had to do with the way Isak has been looking at him.

This particular train of thought needs to be cut short. Immediately.

“I didn't lie, Jonas,” he tells him. He looks into his bright blue eyes as he says it and his voice doesn't waver. Isak is truly a master at lying, even drunk off his ass.  

Jonas considers him quizzically.

“She told everyone you didn't kiss her,” he says after a moment, right after Isak is about to look away.

Oh.

 _Oh._ Of all the possibilities that were forming in Isak’s brain, this is… not the best situation he could find himself in, but also far from the worst.

Shame is creeping up his neck; he shrugs to get rid of it.

“Okay,” he starts. Buying himself a little time. He takes a deep breath. “That part is true.” There. Now the cat is out of the bag.

The words hang heavy in the air, charged with a meaning Isak didn't intend on giving them. With that sentence, he has also revealed a major fact Jonas will almost certainly not fail to point out.

“Okay,” Jonas echoes after a second of consideration, his eyes fixated on the spot where he’s poking at the loose soil with his stick. Isak steals a glance at Jonas, expecting a sneer, a mocking smirk.

Jonas isn't smiling at all, however. Isak can't see much of his face, here away from the light, but there's something in the set of his jaw that makes Isak’s heart beat faster.

"So you've... You've never kissed a girl?" Jonas asks softly.

It wasn’t too difficult to guess considering she was his first girlfriend, but it still takes Isak by surprise to hear it out loud, no filter and no interference in the silence surrounding them.

Isak nods mutely, too awkward for actual words. He watches Jonas look up at him and lick his lips, and just like that the atmosphere shifts, a heavy curtain falling around them.

It's physical, pushing at his skin like something tangible, made real by the way Jonas is staring unabashedly. The look in his eyes is solemn, too serious for the kind of conversation they’re having.

It doesn’t make sense, but then again nothing does in this moment, reality falling away in the face of this _thing_ , this feeling Isak can’t begin to comprehend.

“Do you-” Jonas starts before cutting himself short, still drawing senseless shapes into the ground with the sharp end of his stick. Every second that he doesn't finish his sentence is an additional stab in Isak’s lungs.

Isak can't even ask, because there's nothing to ask. As the silence stretches, he realises the moment has passed, and that Jonas is probably too drunk to remember what he wanted to say in the first place. It’s the only explanation that doesn't make his chest burn with anticipation.

Indeed Jonas never finishes his sentence and yawns loudly instead, breaking the spell that had taken them over. Isak looks down at his feet and ignores the trembling of his shoulders.

-

As soon as they're back in the tent and snug into their sleeping bags, Jonas turns off the blaring light above their heads and plunges the tent into shadows again. This time however, it feels oppressive, the tiny space separating them full of things left unsaid.

The light from the moon is filtered by the dense fabric sheltering them from the outside world. It's too weak for Isak to make out more than vague shapes but he stares up at Jonas anyway, watches him run his fingers through his hair pensively.

When their eyes meet, Isak feels a slight jolt at the oddly intense look in Jonas's eyes, so strong it pierces the darkness.

Isak stays awake long after Jonas has started snoring, staring at the curved walls of the tent like he’s trying to escape from his own head.

 

[October 2014]

It’s a bit too much, after that. Isak just can’t keep it bottled up anymore; his feelings are overflowing. And so it happens despite his best efforts, one rainy afternoon.

They’re just sitting on the bed, high out of their minds, and Jonas is ranting about the unfairness of the capitalist system and those kids working their hands to the bone in rickety sweatshops that collapse down on them. It might be just Jonas pretending to be cooler than he really is but Isak admires that in his friend. He likes that Jonas cares about something that none of them, and especially not Isak, take time to consider.

Most of all, he likes how animated Jonas becomes as he recounts to Isak vivid images from a documentary he just watched, the way he gestures and speaks emphatically. Isak listens to him talk but he can't focus, he just can't. There's an odd feeling rising inside of him, and he feels something akin to fear when he realises the only clear thought in his head right now is that he desperately wants to kiss Jonas’s mouth.

-

It’s a sudden shift in reality, as if he had just put on glasses for the first time.

The world seems to be gradually getting brighter, like sunbeams piercing through the clouds, and he can feel it in his body; a feeling of blossoming warmth, a strange kind of heat unfurling through his chest and curling in his neck and then rising up and up, all the way to his head and his cheeks. It’s a wondrous kind of feeling, the kind that makes his blood run lighter in his veins and something bright burst in his lungs.

And that's how the realisation hits him, over the course what feels like a full minute of his entire body being transcended by overpowering understanding. A light-bulb-going-off kind of moment.

He stares down at the biology book he's holding in his hands, trying to make sense of it even as the sensations wash over him. His mouth is gaping slightly, and he opens and closes it a few times but no sound comes out. He wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. It just feels too heavy for words.

He knows it’s not even fear, that's keeping his mouth shut: it's the absolute certainty that whatever he says, it’s absolutely fruitless.

-

In the end he says it anyway; it’s too big to keep a secret.

“I love you.” The words are quiet, spoken into his book, and it takes exactly 1.5 seconds for Jonas to pull him into a tight hug.

“Hey,” he says in the soft hair right above Isak's ear. His voice is warm and low. “Hey, Issy. You know I love you too.”

And sure it's not the same, and sure the weed is loosening Jonas’s tongue, but Isak will take it.

He shifts against Jonas’s body, turning into the hug so he can lay his head on his shoulder. He’s too much of a coward to correct Jonas, but it’s difficult to feel guilty when he can feel him smooth a hand over his back and pull him even closer.

 

|January 2015]

They don't talk about it, they never talk about any of it, but it's there. An undercurrent of mutual affection, a special care in Jonas’s every glance.

Jonas looks at him fondly, in a way that's not really love and certainly not pity, and Isak falls deeper into the abyss. Because Jonas _knows,_ about the train wreck that is Isak’s family and he cares, of course he cares, but he doesn't let it influence the way he sees Isak.

Their relationship has remained the same through the good shit and the bad. Even after the time he called Jonas to his house and asked him with a voice thick with unshed tears to take him away from there.

Jonas had looked a little too long at the remnants of broken glass over the carpet of the living room, something like sadness falling over his face, and Isak had been so scared he’d look at him like _that_ too.

But Jonas is nothing if not the greatest person Isak has ever had the chance to know, and when he had turned to Isak with a small smile and told him in that impossibly warm voice that his mom had brought home Kvæfjord cake, Isak had found himself smiling right back.

And Isak tries not to let it go to his head, he tries to keep it under control but it's so fucking hard. It's so difficult to ignore the butterflies in his stomach when Jonas flies above the edge of the skate bowl and flashes him a smile like the summer sun, picking him out amongst the crowd like he's the only person who matters.

Isak doesn't tamp down the intense rush of self-satisfaction he feels at the thought that Ingrid is sitting right next to him, and yet Jonas only has eyes for him.

 

[April 2015]

Their exams are over and the days are getting longer and the clothes they wear lighter. It reflects on his mood as well; he feels better than he has in months.

He’s been smiling more, because the days are getting longer, with a bright new sun that signals summer vacation just around the corner.

And it has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the fact that Jonas complained about Ingrid just a few days prior and started saying things like _Maybe we should break up_ and _I don’t feel happy with her anymore._

 

[May 2015]

Isak fucked up. He had been taking several different variables into account, carefully calculating all the ways Jonas could maybe, possibly, feel more than friendship for him. He had been so focused on the things he _did_ know about Jonas, he hadn't paid attention to Eva until she came in like a whirlwind and annihilated all his plans.

Isak thought Hell was having to listen to Jonas relate in enthusiastic details how beautiful Ingrid looked when he went to her house to have Sunday lunch with her parents.

When Jonas drags him along to the park on Wednesday, he realises Hell is really having to watch Jonas and Eva kiss and cuddle and smile so warmly at each other he can't even feel anything other than despair.

Jonas left his first love to move on to another, and he never once looked at Isak.

-

Isak feels sad, he feels despondent, but mostly he's angry. The 5 stages of grief, maybe, all out of order and all at once. They bring out the worst in him, eat at his heart and his mind until he just feels empty.

Nothingness within him, and no will left to bother living life the way he has until now.

When he wakes up in the morning, his first thought is to wonder why he's still alive. Every day, he wakes up and wishes he was dead just so he wouldn’t feel the soul-wrecking pain in his chest.

Just another cliché, that’s what he is. A case study of _What you should absolutely not do when you happen to be in love with your very handsome, very straight best friend._

He can’t ease the pain, so instead he numbs it. Throws himself into schoolwork and parties until his head is so full he can barely hear himself think.

 

[July 2015]

Sometimes, Isak gets it. Why Jonas looks at Eva the way he does. Why he chose to risk being the main topic of gossip in their tiny middle school just to be with her.

Eva is kind, and also fun. She’s always excited about doing something new and drags them around the city, forcing them to watch cheesy movies at the theater or eat at the new Burger King that just opened. Isak is too proud to say it but he’s thankful that she includes him in most of the plans she makes with Jonas, and never asks for anything in return.

He can tell she needs it too, after the last few weeks of middle school. Isak had just been watching from the sidelines, but he had seen how brave she was as she walked down the hallway and pretended not to hear the insults and the hushed conversations. It had been easier to walk next to her after that, sometimes so close their shoulders would bump together.

Their Skype sessions were part of another tradition she established. The first few times, it had been a matter of practicality. The phone bills were getting too high, and Eva needed a free alternative. Also, having a laptop meant they could call each other at all times, including late at night. Their chats were the best then, even if they were just a lot of gossiping. 

-

As night, Eva seems more insecure; Isak feels his confidence grow when he realises it.

It’s wrong, but he soon develops a tendency to manipulate her sometimes, using her weaknesses against her, playing off the doubts she confides in him to build himself up. Every time Isak does it, it’s with the knowledge that Jonas would hate him if he knew.

And every time she call him her friend, Isak wants to sneer. He wishes he could tell her to look a little more closely, to protect herself from people like him, who can’t do anything but drag others down with them.

Instead, tonight like every other night, he launches Skype and opens their chat with an emoticon and some gossip on Ingrid he heard the other day. Just a cheap bait, because he wants to get her riled up and angry. Not because he can’t sleep, never just _because_.

 

[September 2015]

Ecstasy is the drug for him, he decides. His body feels light and strong, all the negativity usually clogging his thoughts swept away, and his only concern at the moment is to hear and see it all. To feel more of the sense of absolute peace loosening his limbs.

Even the shitty Russ music blaring through Ada’s loudspeakers sounds heavenly tonight, all sultry bass and thumping chorus that has him yelling obscene lyrics at the top of his lungs. Jonas is right beside him, an arm slung around his shoulders as they sing in choir. He has a smile that makes all the bones in Isak’s body melt faster than the drug ever could.

Isak wants so badly tonight, and there’s a voice whispering in his mind that he should. Lean in, kiss the dryness of Jonas’s lips away, revel in this incredible exhilarating feeling together, but he knows better than to entertain it. So he just grins back, so wide it probably looks creepy, and stares too long after Jonas has turned his face away.

There’s just no helping the warmth and the bliss spreading through him, transporting him to an artificial Cloud nine. Tomorrow doesn’t exist between these walls, not when there’s Jonas’s hot skin against his and his fingers clinging tightly to the curve of his shoulder.

-

Jonas is fucking with him; Isak is sure of it.

He keeps leaning across him to press the switch of the automatic light that illuminates the stairs of the porch they’re sitting on. Every time he does, the skin of his forearm brushes against Isak’s and it feels unnecessary. Too close, too long. Too much.

Any other time Isak would hate it, the feeling of sticky skin against his; he'd lean back, as far as possible. That night however, Isak stands straight and stiff as a post. Lets Jonas’s bare skin touch his and trigger all the nerve endings in his body, a sweet sort of warmth rising within him in response.

It doesn’t make sense, how the two of them shed their jackets despite the chill of the night. Isak can see the goosebumps prickling Jonas’s tan skin; knows his own hair is standing on end. It feels like yet another silent secret, an acknowledgement of something deeper running between them.

It might be just wishful thinking on Isak’s part but he has learned to live with it,  gotten used to silencing his too-heavy, desperate feelings. The hyper awareness, the fast beating of his heart; it's all becoming second nature to him.

With a click, the light goes out again. Isak isn’t sure what he likes best: the brief moments of quiet darkness, a strange contrast to the shimmering lights inside the house and behind his eyelids. Or the hitch in his breath every time Jonas leans into his face unexpectedly to turn the light back on.

It’s like a game he didn’t know they were playing. A test of resistance or maybe a game of dare, for which the reward remains unclear.

“I missed this,” Jonas says quietly, breaking all kinds of silences between them. The _I feel like we're growing apart_ silence, the _Eva won’t let me do this anymore_ silence. Jonas had always been the honest one between the two of them, always said what he felt in a way that left Isak ill at ease and baffled, too aware of the twists to all his truths.

Jonas isn’t very eloquent tonight but Isak hears it for what it is: an apology. A promise to make things right.

He raises his can of beer and takes a swig. “It’s been a while”, he replies with a genuine smile.

 

[October 2015]

Somewhere along the way, Isak  loses count. Stops agonizing over every single moment Jonas’s touch or Jonas’s words or Jonas’s looks could have meant more.

It’s too fucking weird, for one. Completely ridiculous how when Eva calls him on Skype he tunes her out at the mere mention of Jonas. Starts visualizing it in his mind’s eye, little motion pictures of the two of them talking and then doing more than talking, of them looking and wanting and touching.

Isak tries not to delve into those fantasies too much because he knows what they really represent. A universe where Jonas feels the same for him is an universe where the collapse of his family doesn't hurt as much, because at least he wouldn't be alone.

On nights like these when his dad left the house in sullen silence, off to a crappy pub to drink his anger away, Isak would not feel ashamed as he rang Jonas’s phone. He would cling to the reassuring voice on the other side of the line telling him that he’d be right there. And when Jonas would show up to his house, Isak would let him in without hesitation because nobody would be there to question his presence.

On nights like these, he wouldn’t want anything more than his best friend’s strong body against him, with his warm hands working to take the pain away. With someone like Jonas by his side, Isak thinks he would be invincible.

-

Something evil must have heard his wish and granted it - with a twist - because Jonas is there and they’re hugging the way Isak wanted them to, but his father has packed a suitcase and left the house.

From where they’re sitting against the wall, Isak can hear his mother’s muffled wailing on the other side and it just makes him cry harder. Jonas is holding him close with a hand combing through his hair but it doesn’t cancel out the pain he feels, or the terror that makes his stomach twist and churn.

Half his family is gone, his mother refuses to come out of her room, and the house is in shambles; Isak simply doesn’t know where to go from here. So he decide to do the thing he does best: ignore it.

Jonas’s calloused fingers have migrated to the side of his neck, leaving chills in their wake, but Isak can’t bring himself to enjoy it. There’s too much on his mind, and he only knows one cure.

“Can you call Elias?” he asks Jonas, straightening away from him. Jonas looks back puzzled, until he gets it, and Isak immediately spots the flicker of worry that appears in his eyes. They both know what he’s doing but there’s simply no way Jonas could refuse him in this situation.

“Are you sure?” Jonas asks like Isak thought he would, and Isak just nods in answer.

-

The weed is strong, or maybe Isak is just tired. Sluggishness is spreading through his limbs faster than usual and he’s suddenly glad for the double bed in his room when the feeling of bonelessness intensifies. Because now that they’re lying down side by side, Isak can nestle deeper under the large plaid and push his face closer to Jonas’s shoulder.

If he doesn’t speak nor move, he can hear Jonas’s breathing, made slightly heavier by the drugs. It’s the best kind of lullaby.

“Hey,” Jonas nudges his shoulder, craning his neck to peer at him. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

His hand is still holding Isak’s shoulder, spanning the entire curve of it. It feels heavy and hot even through Isak’s cotton shirt, and he finds himself thinking he wants more.

Pushing that particular train of thought away, Isak yawns and stretches like a cat.“Not my fault the weed’s strong,” he replies, and it comes out sounding incredibly sleepy. Jonas laughs but doesn’t mock him, which is a relief.

Instead, his hand slides down to Isak’s bicep smoothly, like he doesn’t want to pull away just yet, and the thought makes something bloom in Isak’s mind. A daring longing to take what he wants, bolstered by the emptiness of his mind.  

His mouth makes the decision for him.

“I miss kissing,” he says, completely out of the blue and taking even him by surprise.

His gaze flits to Jonas’s face in panic, only to find him smiling lazily as he turns his head to look at Isak again.

“Yeah? What about Astrid?”

When Isak scrunches up his nose, Jonas laughs out loud. The sound reverberates in every corner of Isak’s body.

“Yeah, I feel you. That didn’t look nice at all.”

“It was _not_ ,” Isak insists, sounding a bit whiny. She really was a terrible kisser.

Jonas is still smiling when he turns onto his side, propping his head up in his hand. “So who d’you wanna kiss then?”

Isak stares up at him, a steady thrumming starting in his chest. This might just be the moment he finally says it.

“Hmm?” Jonas says again, when Isak still doesn't answer.

Try as he might, Isak can't do it; the words stay stuck in his throat. He burrows into the pillow instead, closing his eyes and sighing softly. “I don’t know, I just wanna.”

“So how about I kiss you?”

The shock of the question almost makes Isak open his eyes but he resists the impulse. Jonas’s words hang in the air, like an opening for either of them to make a move.

The springs of the mattress dip when Jonas leans forward. Isak can feel his warm breath tickling his cheek and then he feels a dry mouth press against the skin there. The lips linger, until Jonas pulls away with a little 'smooch' noise.

Finally, Isak opens his eyes and frowns at him, the kiss having momentarily drawn him out of his drowsy state.

“That’s not what I meant, idiot,” he complains. The statement lacks conviction, but Isak realises in a rush of panic that he shouldn’t have said anything at all. Now, Jonas will surely wonder why he's annoyed.

They stare at each other, the silence stretching on for what feels a little too long. Contrary to what Isak thought, Jonas doesn’t seem surprised by his reaction.

There’s something in his expression however, like a question that Isak can’t read, and the more he looks into Jonas’s eyes, the stronger it feels. It’s that same tension he felt at the camping trip, and just when he thinks it’s finally about to snap—

Jonas looks away.

“I know,” Jonas replies belatedly, his voice a little quiet.

 

 

[November 2015]

The music in this place is too loud and the lights are too low, but what really bothers Isak is the sketchy thirty-something guy at the other end of the counter who keeps ordering drinks for him. Isak had accepted the first three beers with growing unease when he found himself locking eyes with the man far too often for mere coincidence.

There's a lot going on in his head, made worse by the alcohol. He can feel a number of eyes on him, appraising him in a way that makes his gut churn. He wasn't looking for this kind of attention, or any kind of attention really.

Most of all, it's terrifying how easily he has been spotted, despite the throng. Is it so easy to tell? He doesn't _think_ he gives off gay vibes. Nobody at school had ever been able to tell.

The panic is growing inside his chest so he swallows it down with a large swig of creepy-guy beer. Several feet away, the guy flashes him a thumbs-up sign Isak replies to with what probably ends up looking like a grimace of disgust.

A few other patrons turn toward him, clearly interested now; Isak feels on display, like a fucking fawn in the middle of a wolf pack. And a rapid glance at the barman confirms he will not be getting help from that side either.

To distract himself, he opens several apps on his phone in quick succession, trying to make himself look busy enough that none of the men around him will decide to chat him up. It’s when he finds himself scrolling down his Instagram feed that he realises his mistake.

Eva has posted another picture with Jonas, of her kissing his cheek. Any other time it’d annoy Isak but he’d push the feeling down easily and barely even pause his scrolling, but tonight it bothers him enough that he stares at the picture for a moment.

It’s not so long ago that Jonas jokingly kissed his cheek, but the feeling remains, like a brand on his mind. Isak knew it was completely insignificant, that Jonas probably didn’t even remember he did it or why he did it in the first place— But it still hurt. Seeing Eva kiss him so casually and broadcast it to the world, because she’s his girlfriend and because he loves her.

Isak has no delusion that Jonas does love her, and more than she deserved, considering she had had no qualms cheating on him with fucking Penetrator Chris of all people. Hearing her confession had hurt, because Jonas was too good for someone so fickle and who refused to trust him.

 _What is even good about that penetrator dumbass_ , he wonders as he taps through P-Chris’ posts. It’s all about his bus, with so many pictures of the Penetrators’s logo that it’s starting to look like propaganda, but there’s also a picture of him with his girlfriend.

Isak feels a little bad for her considering what happened, although she ought to know what she was getting into when she decided to date someone like Chris.

At least, assuming she knew.

-

Isak knows he’s fucked right as he hit the Send button. But it’s late, and he’s too drunk for rational thinking or regrets. Just like with everything, he decides to ignore it despite the guilt already gnawing at him.

He doesn’t even know that girl, after all; why would she believe him, a random first year?  

The creepy guy is still there when Isak gets off his stool, sipping from the same drink Isak has seen him nurse for a good half hour now. When their eyes meet again across the counter, the man gives him a slow, appraising smile before standing up as well and starting to walk toward him.

The alcohol in his system makes everything slow and blurry, diluting the fear and apprehension Isak should be feeling at the moment.

The guy gets close enough for Isak to smell the expensive cologne he’s wearing before he smoothly sets a heavy hand on Isak’s shoulders, smile turning proprietary.

“Hey baby, going home already?”

The physical contact feels terribly wrong. When Jonas had set his broad, square hand on that same shoulder, Isak had wanted it all over his body.

“Uh? What do you say?” The guy doesn't relent, oblivious to Isak’s discomfort.

Isak drags his gaze to his face, contempt and disgust probably written all over his face. He takes a deep breath before moving aside, shrugging the hand off his shoulder.

The words fall from his mouth, dripping with hatred.

“Get away from me, you fucking homo.”

He’s just so fucking drunk.

 

 

[December 2015]

Jonas’s closest aunt dies on a Wednesday and Isak only learns about it from Eva, right before they go into English class, after he asks her why Jonas wasn’t in Norwegian. He does his best to hide the way his heart sinks when they both realise Jonas didn’t bother to give him the news firsthand.

The rest of his morning classes are a blur of confusion and hurt. He checks his phone every two minutes, scrolls up his texts messages with Jonas, but there’s nothing to find there.

Jonas didn’t trust Isak with this information. He didn’t deem it necessary to call Isak or drop him a line. The humiliation Isak felt as he went to Eva for details, barely able to look her in the eye, still burns.

Still, he doesn’t think twice before crossing the metal gate as soon as his lunch break starts.

-

Jonas has been crying; Isak can tell from the dried tear tracks striking his cheeks. His eyes are red and puffy and Isak’s heart clenches at the emptiness of his gaze. Jonas seems dazed. He hadn’t even seemed surprised to see Isak at the door, just acknowledged him with a nod and a weak smile and turned to retreat to his room again.

Jonas’s parents are still at work and the silence in the apartment feels stifling, making Isak feel awkward. It feels like a moment for Jonas alone, that Isak had no business interrupting—although it’s a bit too late for regrets when he’s already sitting on Jonas’s large bed.

“She wanted to teach me Spanish,” Jonas says with a wistful smile, fiddling with the leather bracelet on his wrist. “And she would always give me some of her Pisco when my mom wasn’t looking.”

Isak lets him speak, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. He hates himself for not being there properly for Jonas and instead getting selfishly sidetracked by how beautiful his best friend looks in this moment.

He can’t stop staring, can't stop taking it all in greedily; there’s a certain kind of intimacy that comes with the sight. How the blue of Jonas’s irises stands out against the red rim around his eyes. The way his voice sounds, shaky and higher than usual.

Isak has to shake himself out of his trance.

“Did she come often?” He thinks Jonas would want to talk about the good times with her.

Jonas shakes his head, looking a little sadder in the downturn of his lips. Isak mentally kicks himself for putting it there.

“It was getting more difficult lately… You know how it is over there,” and Isak nods even though he has no idea. Everything that he knows about Chile, Jonas taught him. Including the swear words.

“I’m sorry,” Isak offers lamely. The truth is that he has no idea how to handle a situation like this. How did Jonas do it?

Right. By hugging him and being there to listen. And definitely not by fantasizing about his crying face. He really needs to get a grip.

He decides to be a good friend, and moves a little closer to where Jonas is sitting to awkwardly sling an arm over his shoulders. Jonas doesn’t really relax into it, which throws Isak off guard and makes him start to regret every decision that led him to sit in this room.

He goes to withdraw his arm, feeling stupid, but Jonas catches the hand dangling over his shoulder in his, gripping it lightly.

“Thank you for coming,” he murmurs quietly, head downcast. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Isak smiles despite his discomfort, faking a chuckle. “As if you could keep me away.”

“No, I mean it,” Jonas insists, turning to him. His eyes are serious and Isak gulps at the intensity of his gaze. Jonas looks beautiful and they’re sitting really close and this is a fucking recipe for disaster.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Jonas says again, grounding him in reality again.

The protest flies off Isak’s tongue. “You know I don’t care about that stuff.” 

What kind of friendship would it be if they can’t be honest with each other? But he doesn’t know how to say that.

Instead, and after some wavering, he leans in, bringing his other arm up so he can give Jonas a heartfelt hug, pouring in the strength of it all the things he can’t say. He loves Jonas, inside and out, and no amount of hormonal fuck-up will change that.

Jonas hugs him back and they embrace for slightly longer than either of them is used to. When Jonas finally lets go and their eyes meet again, Isak feels himself flush from embarrassment. They’ve always been close, but nothing like this.

“Okay?” he asks, just to break the heavy silence.

“Okay,” Jonas nods, smiling fondly at him, and Isak feels a little rush of selfish pride at the thought that he can make Jonas smile through anything.

He’s so beautiful in this moment, and Isak never had him so close before: it makes his brain go a little haywire. On a sudden impulse he leans in and kisses Jonas’s cheek sweetly, right under his right cheekbone where a faint tear track is still visible.

There’s no excuse for it this time, no weed or alcohol, just sadness. But Jonas is still smiling and Isak thinks maybe this could be okay.  

 

[January 2016]

It becomes a thing, the touches. The hugging, but especially the kissing.

Most of the time it's done jokingly, when Isak wants to thank Jonas for bringing him beer or weed all the way to his house. Sometimes Jonas does it too, when Isak lets him copy answers off his biology homework. Isak definitely thinks he deserves a kiss for that, because Jonas’s ass would be dead fucking last it it weren't for Isak.

Other times, it's sloppy and a little disgusting, like when Jonas has been drinking or when he's just trying to gross Isak out. When she’s here, Eva cheers him on with yells of “Make it wet!” and Jonas goes right along with it, purposely leaving a lukewarm spot of saliva on Isak's cheeks. More often than not, Jonas and Eva join forces and assault Isak with slobbery mouths until he's yelling and begging for mercy.

Isak panicked the first time Jonas had done it in public, but he soon realised that nobody seemed to think much of it. It helps him progressively relax, his eyes not darting around nearly as much when Jonas pulls away. It doesn't hold much meaning, even if Isak always feels a thrill when Jonas starts leaning into his face to kiss it.

-

Elias is here tonight, the self-appointed weed man, and he sits right in front of Isak with his arms spread out over the cushions like he owns the place. Isak feels himself bristle just at the sight of him.

“Hey Issy,” he says with a smug grin that makes Isak wants to slap it off his face. Nobody gets to call him that except Jonas. “Whatcha guys up to? It’s been a while.”

Isak bites back a retort about how being an ass isn’t the best way to get invited to people's parties.

“We’ve been busy,” he says instead, making his best to sound like he doesn’t care.

Elias throws an interested glance around the room, stopping on a point to Isak’s left. “I can see that,” he says appreciatively.

Isak follows his line of sight and feels himself deflate when he sees Jonas chatting with a third year girl in a corner. Their heads are bent close together and Jonas is grinning widely at something she’s saying.

When Isak turns away, he finds Elias’ eyes on him, observing closely.

“He’s got some serious mojo,” Isak says, just so Elias can’t make a shitty comment.

Thankfully he doesn’t, seemingly still distracted by whatever Jonas is doing. Isak is sure as hell not taking another look at that; he doesn’t think he can handle the tightness in his chest.

There’s an uncomfortable stretch of silence, Isak stubbornly staring down at the bottom of his glass, until Elias starts grilling him with questions about parties and stupid rumors Isak doesn’t really give a shit about.

He gives short, noncommittal answers, and is so busy trying to find a way to get the hell out of here he’s caught a bit off guard when someone climbs over the backrest of the couch to plop down next to him.

“Hey,” Jonas says casually, waving at Elias with a smile a bit too wide to be completely sober. Elias leans forward to clasp his hand in a light shake.

“Jonas, my man. Where’s your cute friend?” he asks, nodding his chin in the direction of the spot Jonas was standing at moments before.

Jonas winks at him, relaxing into the couch and carelessly spreading his arms over the backrest in a perfect imitation of Elias’ earlier posture.

“Maybe later,” he replies smoothly in a confident drawl.

His right arm ends up slung over Isak’s shoulders, but Isak can’t afford to read too much into it with Elias right in front of him.

Quickly, Elias and Jonas delve into a conversation about some gang crap from Oslo East side. Elias is droning on about a guy called Finn and Isak quickly tunes him out, trying to figure out the simplest way to go home unnoticed.

“Issy, gimme some of your drink,” Jonas asks, right as he was about to get up.

When Isak holds the glass out to him, Jonas leans forward and kisses him on the cheek, just a quick peck, before taking a sip. Isak stares resolutely at the floor, at his knees, anything other than Elias in front of him who’s probably gearing up for—

“Holy shit, dude,” Elias says, and Isak tries not to sigh. He sees Jonas in his peripheral vision momentarily stop drinking.

Elias barely pauses before continuing. “That’s so gay.”

Jonas eyes him with a slow smirk.

“You jealous?” Jonas asks, making a kissy face at him.

“ _Dude._ ”

Elias looks seriously weirded out but ends up just going back to their gang conversation, and Isak counts that as a win. Or at least, that's what he tries to tell himself.

His second reaction is that he's never, ever, letting Jonas kiss him like that again. He has no idea how to make it stop without explaining why he would want to, but he knows that it's necessary.

-

"There's nothing wrong with it," Jonas says all of a sudden as they watch Elias leave.

Isak turns toward him, brain slow to catch up. He almost asks what Jonas means before he makes the connection.

All he can say is a little "Oh". His thoughts are completely jumbled in his head, and there are a few things he wants to say but he doesn't know how.

Jonas throws him a look Isak finds strange; dark and a little unsure. "It's okay, right?" he asks, his voice a little higher than normal.

There's something there, something that should be jumping out to Isak, but his brain won't co-operate. The only thing he knows for certain is that Elias has forced out into the open something unspoken between them, that neither of them is ready to confront.

He searches for Jonas's gaze, and holds it with a confidence he doesn't really feel.

"I don't care about this guy," he says, feeling something burn inside of him at the way Jonas looks back into his eyes trustingly.

Jonas nods a little in agreement, gaze flitting to the door Elias just went through, and then he leans in to kiss Isak on the cheek. Isak narrowly stops himself from recoiling in surprise.

"Warn a guy," he grumbles with a little smile he can't quite hide. Jonas laughs in return.

 

 

[February 2016]

They stumble inside the dark entryway in a mess of drunken giggles and hushed conversation. Jonas’s family is already asleep and neither of them is interested in waking his dragon of a mom, especially considering she hadn’t been too happy about him skipping tonight’s family dinner.

After what feels like an eternity of sneaking through the main hallway, they’re finally alone in Jonas’s bedroom. Jonas goes to take off his shoes and is hit with the very pungent reminder of why they’re here in the first place.

“Shit, this is so gross,” he groans, pulling gingerly at the seam of his jeans. He had been unfortunate enough to stand in a first-year’s path as she tried to find a toilet to vomit in. Instead, she had spewed all over his clothes and what promised to be one of the best parties of the month had abruptly come to an end.

Now that the door is closed and that they don’t care about making noise nearly as much, Isak can freely indulge in the laughter he's been holding back; the amount of alcohol still running through his system definitely doesn’t help.

Jonas is trying to look indignant but Isak catches the corner of his mouth twitch and it just makes him laugh harder. It’s only when Jonas threatens to throw his soiled clothes at his face that he calms down somewhat, because Jonas is drunk and pissed and Isak knows better than to aggravate him when he’s in this state.

Sometime while Isak was busy busting a rib laughing, Jonas has miraculously managed to take his pants off without smearing cold vomit all over himself. The sight sobers Isak up faster than Jonas’s previous threats ever could. All of a sudden he’s very aware that they’re both standing in the dim light of Jonas’s night lamp, lending a strange sense of excitement to the entire scene.

“I can’t sleep like this, I gotta take a shower,” Jonas says, still holding his jeans by one of the belt hoop. Isak throws a glance at his half-naked form and just as quickly looks away, simply nodding. He’s too busy trying to calm himself down; it’s probably why he’s completely blindsided by Jonas’s decision.

When Isak lets himself look over at Jonas again, he finds Jonas already staring back. There’s a contemplative look on his face as he gives Isak a long once-over, casually, like it’s not making Isak’s entire body burn.

“Come with me,” Jonas finally says, his voice barely above a murmur, and then turns to walk to the bathroom next door.

Isak on the other hand is rooted to the spot. There’s a buzzing in his ears, fairly reminiscent of those few times he passed out from hypoglycemia (and _please, fucking please, don’t faint dontfaintdontfaint_ ). He can’t form a single coherent thought, can’t think beyond the enormity of what Jonas just said and what it means.

For some reason, it’s a little easier to follow once Jonas is out of the room. Isak pads softly out of the room and into the bathroom, and stops at the door. From where he’s standing, hands gripping the wood of the door frame tightly, he watches Jonas shuck his dirty jeans into a corner using just his toes. Isak wants to laugh at the disgusted face he makes but he can barely breathe as it is.

Next, Jonas’s shirt comes off and then his— fuck, _fuck,_ there’s no way this is happening, Jonas taking his boxers off and carelessly dropping them over the toilet lid.

And yet.

Isak stares at his naked back then lets his gaze trail down to take in the curve of Jonas’s ass, fighting a blush. He doesn’t know the rules in this specific situation. What he’s allowed to do, or what Jonas expects of him.

Jonas doesn’t turn and he doesn’t speak. He just climbs into the shower like he forgot about Isak, fully dressed and shaking, a few feet behind him.

Maybe that’s his cue to leave, Isak thinks.

Like he sensed his hesitation, Jonas turns his face to look at him. They don’t say anything but they don’t need to. It’s all there, in the quirk of Jonas’s eyebrows and the glint in his eyes.

When Jonas turns back around to face the wall, Isak takes a deep breath and begins taking his own clothes off. Meanwhile Jonas just turns the water on and pumps some shower gel onto the palm of his hand, still not looking back, not even when Isak opens the door to the cabin and steps inside.

For a moment they’re just two guys inside a shower cubicle, with water raining down on them.

 _Save water, shower together,_ Jonas used to tell Eva in front of Isak, and Isak clings to the memory. Maybe it’s a way for the two of them to wash the grime off without making too much noise. It doesn’t have to mean anything; they're not even looking at each other, after all.

The water jet is directly above his head and Isak tilts his face into it, giving himself a few seconds to recover. He can't concentrate like this, can't think beyond the magnetic pull of Jonas carefully cleaning his skin right next to him.

Just to stop standing there like an idiot he goes to gather some soap as well, and Jonas chooses this moment to reach out and curl his hand around Isak’s.

Dumbfounded, Isak watches as Jonas pulls their joined hands toward his chest, a thoughtful expression on his face. Isak couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

Jonas gives his hand a squeeze before releasing it, bringing both his hands up to cup Isak’s face instead. Their eyes lock, hesitant and careful. The water is still beating down Isak’s back harshly.

“Isak,” Jonas says, whispered and reverent, and Isak closes his eyes.

Jonas’s hands linger on his face, before he drops them down to the side of Isak’s neck in a light grip, Isak's own hands hanging limply by his side. He's itching to raise them and just _touch_ but he's afraid.

By some unfathomable miracle, he’s still breathing. Not even the rapidly cooling water can shake him out of his trance.

After what feels like an eternity, he opens his eyes again and lets himself stare into Jonas’s own, lets himself be trapped again.

Softly, tentatively, Jonas curls a hand around the nape of his neck and Isak relaxes into the touch, tipping his head forward until his cheek is resting on the edge of Jonas’s shoulder. He can feel warm skin just under his lips, covered in water droplets he could lick off. Maybe it's what Jonas wants. Maybe it's what they both want.

He can't find it in him to move, however, not after Jonas cuts the water off and winds both his arms around Isak's chest, hands resting against the middle of his back.

The touch unlocks something inside of Isak, makes him move, finally, and circle Jonas’s  torso with his arms so they are embracing in a loose hug. Their bodies are barely touching and there’s a draft of air chilling his skin, but somehow Isak feels so warm.

Jonas soon moves again. Isak feels his neck shift and he knows exactly what Jonas is about to before he does it.

When Jonas pecks his wet cheek gently, Isak almost sighs from the sheer familiarity of it. He leans further against Jonas’s shoulder until his nose is rubbing at Jonas’s neck softly.

Jonas kisses his cheek again, his arms tightening against him, both of them standing like this until Isak feels Jonas pull at him to steer the two of them out of the shower cabin. He take a fluffy towel to Isak’s wet hair and cold limbs, rubbing the fabric against his skin delicately.

They exit the bathroom and pad softly to Jonas’s room to crawl under the covers, lying on their sides to face each other.

Isak scoots forward until their foreheads are touching, and then he closes his eyes.

Paradoxically, sleep comes easy. Still, Isak wishes they had kissed.

-

Somehow the world is still turning when Isak wakes up.

Reality has gone on. There was no shift in the space-time continuum, as if yesterday didn’t upend Isak's entire life.

The sheer normality of them waking up together and getting downstairs to grab a coffee in sleepy silence makes it seem like nothing out of the ordinary happened, and Isak doesn't know where they stand anymore.

Jonas is quieter than usual, replying with one-word answers to his mom’s mindless chatter about school. Isak does his best to pick up the slack, just so he doesn't have to think about anything else. Especially not about the fact that they might have a crossed a line yesterday it is impossible to go back to. It's terrifying, in all the ways Isak didn't want it to be.

Eventually, it gets too much. Isak can't stand to tiptoe around his best friend like he's just another stranger.

“I have to go, Mom is worried about me,” he lies, shrugging on his coat as he walks out the door.

Jonas doesn't stop him, just nods mutely and doesn't look at him when he says goodbye.

-

The week that follows feels all wrong, like Isak has somehow been thrown into an alternative dimension. It seems like Jonas is holding back in everything he does, like he breached something he didn't mean to, and is frantically trying to pull back.

They hang out after school and go to parties like nothing happened, but Isak can tell it's different. He hesitates now, before offering Jonas to join him to whatever house party he has been invited to. He can see the way Jonas looks down and away, before agreeing stiffly.

 _Maybe it'll go away_ _soon,_ Isak fervently hopes every time he spots the uneasiness in Jonas's smiles. But it doesn't, not really.

They don't touch easily now. Jonas no longer kisses his cheek, and Isak's fingers itch from all the times he went to put an arm around his shoulders but ultimately decided against it.

Even the time they spend together feels strained, unnatural; weighted down by this thing that took place and that neither of them knows how to acknowledge. The more time passes, the more regret grows inside him. _If these are the consequences, it wasn’t worth it_ , Isak thinks bitterly.

 

 

[March 2016]

A whole month goes by, full of awkward silences, before what happened is brought up again.

They’re smoking on Jonas’s bed, something they’ve been doing more often than not lately because Isak doesn’t know how to tell Jonas he hasn’t been sleeping at home for a few weeks.

The truth is that ever since what happened last month, he doesn’t know how to talk to him. The memory of it is always on the back of his mind, makes him doubt and second-guess everything. Sometimes, Isak wonders if it really happened or if he just had a really vivid dream.

“I wanted to kiss you, that time,” Jonas says into the silence, throwing him for a loop.

Isak goes from really fucking high to really fucking sober so fast he almost falls off the bed when his head whips toward Jonas.

Everything in his head has gone blank, all thoughts wiped out by those few words from Jonas. It’s so silent he thinks he can hear himself breathe.

“But then… I don’t know. It didn’t feel right,” Jonas continues, fingers still working at the joint he’s rolling.

Jonas’s voice is sure and strong, but he’s not looking directly at Isak, which is a little reassuring. Isak is probably not the only person freaking out here.

He closes his eyes and reopens them almost immediately, still in disbelief. This is real. How can Jonas be so chill when he’s talking about this is beyond him.

His entire brain feels out of sync; Jonas’s words are there, echoing in his head but he can’t make sense of them. What the fuck is he even supposed to say to that?

Jonas chooses this moment to turn at him and it’s all really overwhelming and not exactly helping his case right now.

“Or did it?” he asks, as if Isak was any state to provide an articulate answer.

 _It didn’t feel right._ Why did it not feel right? Why wouldn’t it feel right?

Disbelief is giving way to cold, implacable fear.

“Why?” is the only word he manages to choke out, gaze lost into space. He can’t both talk _and_ look at Jonas. It’s a little too much to ask for when half his synapses are temporarily out of order.

Jonas doesn’t answer immediately and it makes Isak feel faint with panic.

“I didn’t-” Jonas says, finally, then stops to close his eyes, draw a breath. “I wasn’t sure I wanted it,” he admits.

At that, Isak’s eyes fly to Jonas’s all on their own. His ears are ringing with the echo of what Jonas just said.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Jonas seems calm; grounded. Isak on the other can feel something hot like anger make its way through his veins.

“Then why the fuck- Why the fuck did you do-”

“Like I said-” Jonas starts, interrupting him with a weird sort of wince twisting his lips as he runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t care, Jonas!” Isak all but shouts, pushing himself up on his hands to turn toward him.

Jonas looks surprised; Isak doesn’t give a damn. It fucking hurts, everywhere.

“I don’t fucking care,” he says again, and his voice is a little less loud but a lot more deadly. “Was it fun, to mess around with me? Did you enjoy it?”

He drags in a ragged breath, before exploding.

“You knew!”

The words ring in the room, bouncing against the walls like all the ugly truths Isak never wanted to face up to.

“You knew, but you still went and—”

Fuck. He’s about to cry now; there are tears welling up in his eyes and he doesn’t think he can stop them.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The first tear breaches the edge of his eyelid, and then it all comes out in a salty flood. Isak is still sat up on his haunches, hands holding him upright and head tilted down. His own sobs sound loud in the silence. It’s so fucking humiliating.

“Isak,” Jonas says hesitantly from somewhere close to him. Isak can see him scoot closer despite his blurry vision.

“Issy,” he says again, two hands coming up in front of Isak’s face to cup his cheeks. Isak can feel him pull at him, trying to raise his head, but he resists.

“Issy, please. You’ve got to look at me. Please.”

It’s unfair how weak Isak is against that kind of pleading.

He lets Jonas raise his face toward his.

Jonas looks sad when Isak’s vision finally sharpens, but he doesn’t understand why. There’s no reason for Jonas to feel sad right now.

Jonas’s thumbs are rubbing softly at the wetness under his eyes, calming Isak down somewhat. He takes a deep breath that makes him shudder, and Jonas’s hands tighten the slightest bit around his face. He still has that look in his eyes Isak can’t comprehend.

“I’m so sorry, Isak,” he starts, and Isak closes his eyes. It sounds too ominous; Isak can’t look at him while he says it.

“I was scared. I didn’t want to screw it up."

He takes a deep breath. "I… I was scared of losing you.”

Isak’s eyes fly open. _Losing him?_

But Jonas isn’t done. “It’s true. That I knew.”

Well, fuck.

“But it didn’t mean anything,” Jonas says gently. Isak stares at his face, the sober part of his brain struggling to keep pace.

“It didn’t?” he asks, hating the way his voice wobbles a little.

Jonas looks at him fondly. “No, of course not. I didn’t know what you wanted, deep down.”

 _Okay_ , Isak thinks. So maybe Jonas didn’t want to assume anything. It still doesn’t make total sense.

Clearing his throat, he looks down before his eyes dart back to Jonas’s face automatically.

“But why?” and his voice sounds weak. “Why did you not want it then?”

If Jonas looks away now, Isak will know he’s lying.

“I was still figuring it out,” Jonas replies simply, eyes boring into his own. Isak can feel his spine sag a little with relief.

The anger, the fear; it all ebbs away, leaving him with the hardest part.

“And now?” His voice is barely above a murmur.

Jonas doesn’t answer immediately. His gaze travels over Isak’s face, tracing the angles of it like he’s seeing him for the first time.

“I love you,” he says instead, skipping all the steps in between. And then he leans in, slowly.

Isak closes his eyes and the distance between them both, feeling like he’s flying.

The kiss is slow, and comforting. He marvels at the overload of sensations, the intimate knowledge of the way Jonas’s mouth curves delicately under his and the smell of his perfume on his skin.

Isak opens his mouth and tangles his fingers in Jonas’s curls, fingers splayed against his scalp to pull him closer. Just a touch and he’s addicted, can’t believe he went so long without knowing what Jonas tasted like or how soft his lips could feel against his.

Eventually, Jonas leans back down on the bed and pulls him down with him, his arms encircling his waist like he doesn’t want to let him go.

They kiss again, and again and again, and Isak revels in the feeling of Jonas’s warm hands caressing his back, all along his shoulders and the curve of his ribs. They kiss until they fall asleep, Isak on his back and Jonas curled up against his side, a arm thrown over his midsection.

-

They spent the next day in bed, and it’s _glorious_.

Jonas’s family keeps away and Isak suspects it has a lot to do with Thea’s earlier visit into the room. It’s a bit daunting, and Isak doesn’t really look forward to the prospect of having to face them now, but it’s fine for now.

It feels more than fine really, after hours of curling against Jonas’s chest and feeling his heart beat calmly in his chest.

“I was such an idiot,” Jonas sighs against Isak’s neck sometime later. The sky has gone dark and rainy, and Isak is losing track of time.

He can feel Jonas hesitate against him, like he's ashamed, before he says: “I thought I was going crazy…”

Isak hums understanding at the back of his throat. His hold against Jonas’s back get a little tighter.

“When did you know?” he asks instead, changing the subject because he doesn’t like to think about the doubt and the meandering.

Jonas turns onto his back, arms outstretched. He seems pensive.

“Does it have to be a specific moment?”

Isak can’t resist stroking his face gently.

“Not really,” he says, just a murmur. “It’s just- Maybe you had a moment like that.”

Jonas turns his head toward him, brows a little furrowed.

“Did you… Have a moment?” he asks, and Isak bites his lips to stop himself from smiling, but Jonas probably notices anyway. He pulls himself up on his elbows to look at Isak’s face from up close.

“I think I know,” he says, and there’s the most radiant smile on his face. “All those times at the skatepark, when I thought you looked cuter than Ingrid.”

Jonas is running a hand through his hair softly. Isak can feel warmth spreading all through his limbs, that makes him want to cry and hug Jonas and laugh all at once.

He silences the maelstrom of emotions with a roll of his eyes and a scoff. “I’m not _cute._ ”

Jonas nods with a very serious expression on his face and leans toward him.

“Yeah. You’re hot.”

And that, Isak decides as Jonas kisses him a little harder and a little heavier, might be all he's ever needed.

**Author's Note:**

> You can feed me some more Josak prompts on twitter @desert_coffin!


End file.
